A/N:
Ok, so this is my first Supernatural fic, although I've been
reading for ages. I'm anxious to know what you guys think. Umm,
just a note: I'm not American, and have never been to America, so
sorry if the geography is wrong. So yes, other than that, hope you
enjoy! Oh yes, this is probably set somewhere in the 2nd
season. Possibly 3rd. Or 1st. Ok, basically
sometime before the 4th season.

A
Hard Night's Night

The
unmistakable sound of a groan followed by a thump echoed throughout
the small room.

Sam
shot up from his bed, head snapping to his left, where his brother
slept.

Or
was supposed to be sleeping.

Instead,
the bed was empty, it's covers pulled back, the pillows slightly
askew. Sam frantically clambered out of his own nice warm bed, his
lanky limbs moving slowly after their last hunt. He headed blearily
towards the bathroom, his head still pounding after the fall he took.
He pushed open he bathroom door to find Dean lying on the floor,
blood leaking out of a wound on his upper arm. It was a deep hole,
just below his right shoulder. Sam's eyes widened at the sight. He
hadn't realised his brother had been hurt.

They
had been at the Saint Croix River Valley, on the border of Minnesota
and Wisconsin, investigating the mysterious deaths that had been
occurring every 5 years since 1937. The victims were found lying in
various areas of the valley with a gaping hole in their stomach,
however no weapon of any type matched the wounds found on the victim.
After researching a bit, the boys had realised it was a hoop snake, a
legendary creature that was supposed to live in that area.
Unfortunately, their research had left out a rather vital piece of
information; the hoop snake was extremely intelligent. It was no
ordinary snake; it was smart, and could plan. This had made their job
a lot harder, resulting in Sam slamming his head on a rock and Dean
narrowly avoiding being stabbed by the hoop snakes tail. Or so Sam
had thought.

"Sam,
MOVE!" Dean's yell forced Sam in to action after being
momentarily paralysed by finding out that the snake could actually
think.

"Nasty
bugger doesn't give up, does he?" Dean muttered darkly, his hand
tightly gripping a dagger, the only weapon that could work on such an
animal. Sam grunted in agreement, his eyes fixed on the creature
coming towards them. It gripped its tail in its mouth and began
rolling towards them. Both Sam and Dean stood tense,
shoulder-to-shoulder. It began picking up speed, covering more
ground. At the last minute, the two brothers jumped apart, Sam to the
left, Dean to the right. As Sam moved however, his foot caught on a
rock, sending him sprawling and smashing his head on another rock,
and knocking him unconscious. Dean meanwhile was focusing on slicing
the snake into two. However, the sight of his little brother falling
onto the ground distracted him.

"Sam!"
Dean yelled out. Suddenly, the hoop snake was right in front of him.
He swung the dagger, catching the creature across its stomach, but
not before it struck him. Its tail speared into his upper arm, just
below his shoulder. Dean let out a yelp as the tail pierced his arm,
but pushed the pain aside and instead focused on killing the sucker.
Just like their father had taught him to. He swung the blade again;
aiming for the same cut he had caused the first time. This time, the
blade managed to cut the hoop snake straight in half. It gave a
violent hiss before dropping, dead, onto the floor. Dean let out a
ragged breath, the pain of his wound coming back full force. However,
there was no time to worry about himself. Sammy was still lying on
the ground, unconscious.

Sam
rushed to Dean's side, gripping his older brothers left shoulder.

"Dean?
Dean, you with me buddy?" He shook Dean a bit, rewarded with
another groan and a flickering of eyelids. Dean slowly, slowly
opened his eyes, showing Sam his green orbs.

"S'mmy?"
Sam gave a small smile.

"Yes,
you idiot, it's me. What he hell were you thinking? Why didn't
you tell me it got you? You've lost so much blood… we might have
to take you to hospital!" Dean struggled to sit up, gripping Sam's
shirt as if it were a lifeline.

"No.
No hospital. 'M fine…" he said unconvincingly.

"Yeah?
Well, you don't look fine to me."

Dean
was pale, his freckles standing out against his pale skin. His skin
was cold, his breathing quite irregular. What worried Sam the most
though was the sigh of his shirt, which was covered in blood. Dean
had managed to cover it up with his jacket when they were driving
back to the motel, and to be honest, Sam had been so out of it that
he hadn't noticed the small winces Dean had made every so often on
the drive back. Which was exactly what Dean had been counting on.

Now,
Dean looked pitifully up at Sam, his eyes large, and his lips formed
in a small pout.

"Please
Sam. No hospital?"

Sam
huffed. Whoever had said he was the manipulative one who could pull
off the puppy dog eyes and pout had never been with an injured Dean.

"Fine,"
he grumbled. Dean smiled weakly at him.

"Good.
Now help me up off this freakin' freezing floor," he mumbled,
hauling himself to his feet with Sam's help. He lurched slightly,
being steadied by Sam's hand on his chest. Dean raised his hand and
shooed Sam's hand away.

"No
chick flick moments, dude."

Sam
shook his head, a smile on his face. Then he had to shut his eyes for
a minute, a dizzy feeling coming over him. Next thing he knew, he was
seated on the edge of a bed- Dean's bed, he realised- with his
older brother hovering next to him. Once the dizzy feeling in his
head had gone, he raised his head.

"Dude,
what would you do without me?" Dean asked.

Sam
grinned at him.

"Take
nice hot showers, listen to normal music on a CD,
not have porn on my computer... the list goes on." He replied.

Dean
rolled his eyes.

"You
know you love me." With that, he attempted to put Sam to bed. But
Sam refused to comply.

"Dude!"

"What?"

"I'm
23! And besides, just because I said we wouldn't go to a hospital,
doesn't mean your arm is fine. I need to look at it."

Dean
sigh.

"Yes,
Samantha," he said. But he sat still as Sam cleaned and
bandaged his arm tightly. Once he was done, Sam turned to Dean.

"Ok,
NOW you can go to bed."

"'M
not tired."

"Dean,
you're falling asleep!"

"Am
not.

"Are
too!"

"Not."

"Dean,
your eyes just closed!"

"You're
imagining things, Sam. With that hit to your head, I'm not
surprised."

"Dean,
I refuse to have this conversation with you. Come on, you're going
to bed."

"Sam."

"What?"

"I'm
the older brother. I tuck you in bed."

"I'm
23!"

"I'm
27!"

"… your
injured!"

"And
you have a concussion. Come on, Sammy. Time for bed."

Dean
tucked Sam into bed. And despite all his complaints, Sam didn't try
to stop him. Once Dean fell into his own bed, he fell asleep straight
away, leaving Sam to ponder a question Dean had previously asked.

"What
would you do with me?"

Sam
looked at the still form of his brother lying on the other bed.
Dean's light breathing filled Sam with a sense of safety, knowing
that the one constant in his life was still with him.